


Who wears socks in the hottub??????

by bigsoup



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 03:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19759387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsoup/pseuds/bigsoup
Summary: Fate protag does Sherlock Holmes's tutorial questromantics if you squint





	Who wears socks in the hottub??????

You were wearing pjs and you were pissed. When Mash had woken you up, you had been in such a daze (accompanied with the hopes of finding another 5 story building daughter to adopt) you followed her without complaint. And now as punishment you were cyberspaced into BB hellworld with Mash screaming on intercom and Sherlock jabbering away like an old man lecturing a millennial about clicking books.  
Since meeting him in Shinjuku, the two of you had very little contact. When you initially met him, it was lit. You were excited by the prospect and- like with everyone new you met- wanted to know him better. Unfortunately, knowing him meant learning he was a massive tool. A sentiment shared only with Moriarty and Da Vinci but even that had its shortcomings. Recently you had the feeling that Sherlock was...hiding something. A massive something. Moriarty agreed with you readily but his agreement stopped short at your tremendous paranoia. Once in a late night conversation with the archer, you had pressed the issue; voice low and eyes shifty.

“Professor, I understand that he is hiding truths. That he isn’t giving me the full explanation- but there's more than that.”  
He had merely chuckled in surprise and patted your head. Moriarty assured you that the cosmic realities that Holmes knew were kept in the dark for your own protection. You swallowed your protests and sighed. That's not it, Professor. He is hiding himself.

Meanwhile; the dapper detective detected your distance and deduced that he should do some daring disarming with due diligence- he wanted to put you at ease. This was a wonderful bonding technique, one that you had successfully used before. Most importantly, he could show off as a trustworthy servant in an environment completely tailored to his advantage. It was just after his show of martial arts and Holmes was (smugly) proudly admiring the quickness of Mash. Not many people knew of Baritsu- although certainly well read people such as yourself-

“Elitist scum street fighting.” Your small joke sent a fake laugh through Holmes, one that he was hopeful would relax the monstrous tightness in your shoulders. Now he wasn’t sure it was a joke--

“As my Master, shouldn’t Baritsu be familiar to you?”

He questioned with a light tone but your body became even more rigid. You gave him a strained smile.

“Master? We haven’t made a contract, Holmes.” He found himself disappointed to hear you call him by his last name. A name reserved for enemies, for subordinates, for pawns and for apprentices.

“Ah yes, I suppose I neglected to mention that. I have officially become a Servant of Chaldea, and formed a contract with you. I did so last night.”

Through the intercom Mash continued to mutter about Baritsu whilst furious scribbling notes on a pad. You gave Sherlock a flat and annoyed look, not bothering to hold back your irritation- it's not like you could hide it from him anyway. You huffed a sigh.

“Fine.” Your voice was irate with the just barely acceptance of your newly formed contract. Sherlock almost wanted to laugh at it, he was glad he told you while you were nearly napping on your feet.

“Ah and another thing-” Mash was listening now, “I am not a Caster. I lied about that.” Sherlock said with a grin. You sigh.

“dick.” You seemed beyond consolation, a grimace tugging at your lips as Mash began to fuss. Your hope had left. You were subject to this fuckery until Tesla finished his death ray and you found a good day to die.

“Forgive me, Mash. That was but a jest-”

“Uh-huh.”

“My spirit origin was so severely damaged that my class changed- from caster to ruler-”

“WHAT!?!?” Mash leapt out of her chair in excitement, sending it clattering to the floor.

Another wave was defeated with the ruling detective’s London street kung fu. Giving him directions was easier than you thought it would be. You expected to have to fight with him on things, to make mistakes and be sidelined while he took full control of the situation. But the two of you worked surprisingly well together, he tended to be impatient. Wanting to move from one thing to the next without pause, you paced him. Perhaps it was the bond of servant and master that he had created the night before but now you were a weight. Not restricting, not heavy, not burdensome. It was like the weight of thick blankets on a cold night or the metal of a marshmallow toasting stick against your palms. The sensation was present, grounding.

“Mr. Holmes, may I ask a question? What...exactly are you?”

“Whatever do you mean…?” His retort was curt and your groan was eternal.

“Um...I...I believe you know exactly what I am asking you.” Bold words from Mash, you snickered. “When I first met you all I could think was “The great detective really did exist!” and I accepted that as fact. But the more I think about it...I’m not sure. And you have been making many contradictory statements about it, so now I have no idea what to think…”

“Then don’t.” Your response was blunt. Sherlock looked at you with wide eyes.

“...Have you an idea already, Master?”

“Pleasedon’tcallmethat. And uh...no. It doesn’t really matter to me, I guess.”

“Oh?” Sherlock pressed.

“Yeah.” You pushed back.

“Could I trouble you for some exposition on that?”

You groaned.

“Sure. It’s like, 4:30 in the morning, why not. The nuts of it is, I know that you use my bathroom to cut up your cocaine so it doesn’t matter to me whether you are fictional or not because if you weren’t real than I wouldn’t have to deal with stepping on white powder when I get up at night to pee.”

“Senpai please use some foresight before you speak.”

“Foresight more like HIGHsight. Zing.”

“I must admit I am disappointed that you were able to say it so succinctly.” Sherlock had pondered over a hundred ways to convey it to you yet here you were, fully understanding and completely uncaring at the same time. Perhaps this is why you drew so many divine spirits and gods to your side, the history of existence meant nothing to you. No matter their grandiosity or power, you were concerned only with what annoyed you. It was an incredibly charming, and incredibly dangerous trait to possess.

“UGH!!!! YOU TALK TOO MUCH!!!” It was a blaring robot voice. “Ooooooooooooooooo110001101010--”

“Ah yes--” Sherlock than went on a massive rant about like...morals and sentient npcs and whatnot. You listened- kinda. But most of your attention was spent watching him. When he monologue he was...better than any other time. So absorbed in the knowledge he doesn't take time to study and scrutinize. Unfortunately, the more he talked the closer came the thundering footsteps of the next enemy.

You sat on the floor to keep yourself from falling, the beast was so large that the whole cyberworld shook with it’s hoofsteps. Just like Snoop dog. Cause of the hooves. Its his hooves you bitch. You know hoofstep the new music provided to you by cybo-boar. 

As a seasoned apocalypse survivor, you stared at the beast without flinching.

“Sherlock, if I may interrupt real quick. Hey uh- NPC feelings?” You awkwardly addressed the gear boar. “Would it help if we lost sometimes? To let you win?”

“...No.”

You shrug your shoulders in a ‘yeah, thought so’ manner and turned to your new ruler servant.

“Ok then British Rocky, are you ready for round 2?”

“That joke was incredibly outdated, Master.” Sherlock was deadpanned but you heard humor edging into his voice as he approached the beast. He was a servant worth a mountain’s weight of salt, and he was going to prove it to you. If you were from the 14th century you would be so psyched about that, 14th century bitches Love salt.

“The Battle has ended, good job Senpai and Mr. Holmes.” Mash chimed in helpfully once the battle was complete, her wiggliness detectable from just her voice.

“Good work, Master. The case is closed for now.”

After all this fighting, you could only conclude that you hated his noble phantasm name. 

“So did you want me to come along so you wouldn’t be saying ‘Elementary My Dear” in a cyberplane all by your lonesome?”

“Of course not my Dear-”

“Don’t.” Your words were harsh but you had softened. Not because of his fighting but because the constant banter. Before today you had been silent, sharing the bare minimum of conversation. To be so snarky and openly spiteful was…relaxing. For you, it was because you no longer felt uncomfortable around Sherlock. The distance between you had shortened. But for Sherlock, it was soothing to have a peer. You were no Watson- never would be- but you looked him in the eye like Moriarty, just without the whole ‘wanting to defeat him’ thing. For him this was a blissful companionship.

“Hm. Well don’t worry about the perpetrator, I shall handle them swiftly enough.”

“Please don’t be too hard on BB, she just gets bored.”

“Hoo? You think that your little Mooncancer did this, Master?” Sherlock was smirking. Your idea was far from the truth but not unfounded. 

“Hm, guess not.” You didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by his response. Mash was already pressing Sherlock for details, deductions, answers. He sidestepped them easily, and you were (thankfully) taken back to the world of reality and could slip back into your now cold bed.

You had the common sense to speak to BB chan first, away from everyone else of course.

“Hey BB, someone was messing with the AIs for the farming quests-”

“Oh? Do you think it was me, Sen-pai~?``she coyly hide a smirk behind her hand. You smiled and shook your head, sitting next to her.

“No, I know you temper with them. You have invaded, bugged, and rewired everything in this facility to your liking. And...honestly I don’t particularly care. But someone had wired the NPCs to...feel. Kinda.”

“Oh, my.” Her tone grew darker and the space around her began to heat and writhe. “I had only made them stronger in an effort to kill the other servants, as you know,-” You hummed in agreement, “But...to force such a thing on such unadvanced and single dimensional things...hardly even called AI. I cannot help but be offended, Senpai.”

“BB can I ask a favor of you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Cool, so can you kinda...take over our security system but on the lowkey? I know you’ve had it as a bit of a hobby but...I would like you to be more invasive.”

She was quiet and then snickered.

“And you think I would do this for you, Senpai~? What an arrogant senior you are~”

You smiled at her and bumped your head against her own, the static coming from her body making your hair stick out as if rubbed by a balloon.

“Please amuse this arrogant senpai of yours, BB.”

“Hmph~.” She stood and spun around, tapping a finger to your nose before leaving the room in a cascade of gold dust and pixelated shadow.

You went back to your bed, thinking that when you got up Moriarty will likely want to be buddy buddy with you to spite Sherlock. Your mind wandered back to the boxing man and your brow tightened.

Sherlock was just a shady bitch, (one sus bish). BB, Moriarty, Cu alter, Shuten, Dantes. All of them evil, but honest. They were aware of their nature and had no issue with declaring it and proving it to you. But you could trust them to be evil.

That was the issue with Sherlock, despite what little charm and kindness he had- you could not trust him to be either.


End file.
